


the ending was inevitable.

by paperfolds (starfolds)



Category: Gaya Sa Pelikula (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Season 1, Secret Relationship, canon compliant so far, mild wattpad spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28370892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starfolds/pseuds/paperfolds
Summary: Once, you were perfect together.Keyword being:were.Or: some secrets aren't meant to be kept.
Relationships: Aldous Asiron/Jose Vladimir Austria
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

_You are a secret worth keeping._

_You are a secret I'm protecting._

You were his biggest secret and boy, did it make your blood sing.

There was a certain thrill to it, this act the two of you were selling. The secret smiles, the secret glances, the stoic face despite the secretly whispered endearment.

_Shh._

_Don't let them see._

_This is only between you and me._

He would hold your hand under the table. He would squeeze your thigh. He would curl cool fingers on your belt loops, and sneak a quick touch behind the waistband. He would sling an arm around your shoulder, and upon their retreat, you'd feel his nails run along the curve of your spine.

He would tug you towards deserted corridors to steal a kiss. Stairways, bathroom stalls, late evenings under a lamp post that never worked—

If it was a spot secluded, he found it. And he took you there with him.

He was a single letter in your phone memory, just as you were in his—

( _"J? Why would you save me as J? Jose's my dad, you know that."_

_"Because you're the only V everybody knows, obviously.")_

And he was right: you _did_ find it thrilling. You _did_ find it exciting. You were an actor in this film he was directing, and you were doing such a good job in selling this story.

But soon enough—

You found it suffocating.

Your smiles turned strained, every time he brushed off your hand. Your voice tensed, whenever he still said yes to others when he'd already given his commitment to yours—

( _"We had plans today. You could've told him no."_

_"Come on, Vlad, you know he doesn't take petty excuses for an answer."_

_"Are you saying I'm a petty excuse then?")_

But really, the only story you were selling? Was _his_.

And soon enough, you began to dislike being a part of it.

You were tired of the constant lies, of the constant excuses, of the constant denials.

His eyes were yours behind closed doors, his touches, his smiles, his affection and love—

He was yours in the shadows and corners, in the tiny streets and hidden alcoves—

He was only yours when the lights were out.

But the moment the film ended, the moment the old faulty light bulbs in this stuffy room flickered on—

He would stand like nothing happened. He would walk away like he hadn't been kissing your knuckles one by one. He would leave you sitting in the backmost row of seats without even a single glance.

Your hand would feel cold, your fingers now empty.

He could very well be another stranger, really.

(Why weren't you allowed to even hold his hand? Why couldn't you lean against his shoulder anytime you wanted? Why couldn't you hug him from behind? Why couldn't you be the brunt of your friends' teasing when you beg off for date nights? Why couldn't he touch your cheek in public? Why weren't you allowed to even fix his collar or straighten his sleeve?

Why did he make you feel like your touch was so abhorrent just because other people could see?)

You were his biggest secret, yes. And boy oh boy, was it becoming so fucking exhausting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here.](https://twitter.com/pairalin_/status/1336311138170990592?s=19)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He is a master storyteller, a wordweaver. Spinning narratives is as easy as breathing, as easy as smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because on the 11th day of January, JMS chose violence.

He is a master storyteller—that's how you fell in love first remember? You were so hungry and he was so giving—

Oh the stories he told. The stories you learned. The ones you yourself told.

The stories you had to learn how to tell.

He is a master storyteller, a wordweaver. Spinning narratives is as easy as breathing, as easy as smiling.

You twirled and laughed and nodded along to his hidden cues and it took a while—boy, did it take a while, before you realized you wanted a different narrative for your own.

The kind of narrative that didn't settle. That didn't hide. That wasn't afraid. That was free and open and loud and screamingly bright and blinding.

The kind that you deserved.

He left, before you snapped.

He left you behind in your inadequacy and demands.

He left you questioning and unsure. He left you afraid of your own wants(needs): to be seen, to be known, to be out there beyond the shut doors—where the lights are on and the sound of chatter deafening.

He left you, shattered heart and all, but did he really leave at all?

Your phone chimes with another message. You end another call. You ask, and he says yes. He wants to cook. You take it back and apologize. He makes good on his promise to find the camera you wanted.

Your phone keeps chiming. It keeps on chiming.

He wants to talk.

He wants to talk and drink and close things properly—maturely—but before you knew it, before you could realize it—

You were being spun around in his narrative yet again.

There were just more broken beer bottles this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted [here](https://twitter.com/pairalin_/status/1348435397139861504?s=19).


End file.
